


Unnatural

by pianoforeplay



Category: U2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Larry has a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unnatural

When Larry shows up at the studio late for the fifth time in the past two weeks, he's met with curious and accusatory glances from the other three quarters of the band and an eyebrow quirk from their thoroughly unimpressed producer.

His response in turn is a deep frown and a, "Fuck off. I'm not the only sod here who's ever been late."

Adam takes a sip of his capuccino, Edge tsks softly to himself, Brian's face inexplicably twitches and Bono taps a pen against his knee. The soft tck-tck-tck of Bono's tapping soon the only noise in the room and then Larry rolls his eyes and drops himself heavily onto the couch, arms crossed and offering no apology and no explanation. The silence continues for a long, agonizing moment before it's finally broken by the sound of Brian clearing his throat.

"Well. Shall we?"

Larry finally relaxes as the attention is divereted away from him and he sinks a little further into the couch.

The next day, Larry makes sure to be on time. He walks into the studio and meets Adam in the main room. They exchange mutual grunts, Adam's from over a frothy cup of Starbucks and Larry's just about to ask about his evening when his face suddenly goes a sickly green. He grabs Adam's arm and then forces his way past, running straight for the bathroom and slamming the door hard behind himself.

He re-emerges about fifteen minutes later, steadfastly ignoring the worried and curious looks he can feel on his back as he slides behind his drumkit.

"Larry, are you--" Adam's inquiry is cut short by a sharp glare and he lifts a hand in surrender before bending over to pick up his bass and slip it on.

Larry grabs his sticks, beats out the count and, without waiting for Brian's approval, starts into a new, bass-heavy beat.

When evening falls and Brian's gotten tired of the band's increasingly worrisome levels of apathy, he suggests they call it a night. Adam's the first to agree, already halfway to the door before Bono's suggesting they all head out for a pint or some food. The suggestion of food makes Larry's stomach growl and thirty minutes later, they're smashed into a booth of the Tea Room and ordering their meals.

"I'll have the Challans Duck, please," Adam gives Siobhan his order with a smile before she turns to Edge.

"Maize Fed Chicken for me, please."

Bono leans forward a little, laying on the charm with a wink. "I'll have the Hereford Beef, please."

Siobhan flushes a little, returning the smile before turning to Larry. "And you, Mr. Mullen?"

Larry stutters, his automatic response of, "Pumpkin Risotto," failing to pass his lips as the thought of Bono's juicy steak suddenly grips him. He swallows hard.

"I, ehm... I'd like..." Once again, he ignores the curious glances of his bandmates and pushes through, his face heating a bit. "The ehm... the Pumpkin Risotto, please. Thank you."

Siobhan nods and gives them all one last shy smile before walking briskly away.

After about two rounds of drinks - Guinness for Edge and Bono, tea for Adam and water for Larry - their food arrives. Larry picks up his fork and pokes at his plate for awhile, taking a small taste as his eyes wander to Bono's plate. And stay there. When Bono gets involved in a heavy discussion with Edge over the relevancy of Joseph O'Connor's most recent work and Adam turns his back to try to get the attention of the waitress for yet another cup of tea, Larry leans forward and steals a bite from Bono's plate.

One bite turns into two. And two into three. And as he takes the fourth, he's aware of the sudden silence at the table. He glances up, still chewing as three pairs of eyes stare at him in disbelief.

Slowly, he swallows. Then leans back and wipes at his mouth with his napkin, flushing darkly. "... What?"

"Larry, are you _ill_?" Adam's voice is quiet and urgent and very genuinely concerned and it causes a flare of anger in Larry's belly that he manages to quickly suppress.

"It just... it looked good. Really good."

Silence falls around them again and Larry suddenly feels like a circus act on parade and he scowls darkly, picking up his fork and spearing another bite of pumpkin risotto.

A few days later and Larry is late to the studio once again. When he arrives, he makes a beeline for Edge who's leaning over the mixing board, discussing some track or another with Brian.

"Hey," Larry fidgets a little and then shoves his hands into his pockets as Edge turns to face him. He ignores the silent, "You're late again," that Edge's eyes are screaming and feels himself already scowling. "Look. I need to talk to you."

"All right." Edge doesn't move.

Larry glances at Brian and then back to Edge. "In private. Please."

Edge's brow furrows before he nods and quietly excuses himself, heading towards the back hall with Larry close behind, both ignoring the curious looks coming from the other half of the band as they leave.

Edge takes a turn at the end of the hall, opening the broom closet and ushering Larry inside. Larry ducks in and hunches back against the door as soon as it's closed. He plants his feet, crosses his arms and takes a deep breath.

Edge stares at him, waiting.

"See. It's like this. I think-- I mean, I have absolutely no idea how it's even bloody _possible_ and it really _shouldn't_ be possible and I think I very well might be fucking insane, but all the nausea and the nerves and the _cravings_ and-- I can-- I can _feel_ it, you know? I can just _tell_. I know there's--"

Edge shakes his head and rests a hand on Larry's shoulder, silencing him without a word and moves in closer. He brushes his lips over the top of Larry's hair, voice hushed, "Larry, what is it? Just tell me."

Larry shivers a little and shakes his head. "I'm not sure I can. It's just too fucking _weird_ , Reg." His voice hardens a little, "And completely unnatural."

"Unnatural?"

" _Yes_. Unnatural. And biologically impossible and severely _severely_ _fucked. Up._ "

Edge shakes his head again, pulling back just enough to meet Larry's eyes. "You're not making any sense, Lar'. Just _tell_ me."

Larry lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging, head falling forward. He watches his hands move to rest on Edge's waist, "You remember that night we had a few weeks ago? That one-- the one France?"

Edge jolts a little, eyes suddenly panicked and furious. " _That's_ what's unnatural? And, fuck, _biologically impossible_?"

Larry growls a little and gives him a shove. "No! Well-- fuck. No! Not that. Not that exactly, anyway." He feels Edge relax just slightly and takes the opportunity to push him back a little, reaching into his front pocket and pulling out a bit of white plastic.

When they finally exit the broom closet hand-in-hand twenty minutes later, they're stopped short by Bono who's leaning against the opposite wall, ashen-faced and shaking his head. Larry feels the heat in his face rise, equal parts embarrassment and fury as Bono lets out a quiet, resigned sigh.

"Fuck, Reg. Is there _anything_ you can't impregnate?"

 **end.**

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a joke birthday gift for melissa2u and beta'd by frog4. Initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/9908.html) on 3/31/2006.


End file.
